


Not Broken

by Mystrana



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky wants something more, Friendship, M/M, Near Death Experience, Post CATWS, Recovery, So does Steve, but they don't know how to bring it up, intense injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4648071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrana/pseuds/Mystrana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever ending Bucky pictured for himself, it didn't involve THIS. It didn't involve intensive care in a hospital, it didn't involve being unable to communicate with anyone, it didn't involve being unable to breathe for himself, and it definitely didn't involve him being mentally aware of everything that was happening around him even as his body betrayed him yet again.</p><p>He didn't want to admit it, not now, not like this, but the ending he had started to picture over the last few months as he worked with the Avengers was a lot different. It involved Steve. It involved him and Steve and being happy.</p><p>Would he ever get a chance to see if Steve pictured a similar ending?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this longer than I'd like to admit given how short it is. In fact, it sat for such a long time in my WIP folder because I felt like it should have been longer, somehow. In the end, I realized it is strong enough to stand as it is and I'd like to share it with you all!
> 
> This first chapter is incredibly intense, so if hospitals and descriptions of locked-in syndrome aren't your thing, please avoid or read with care and caution!

_Time won't ever steal my soul_

_We're not broken, so please come home_

_If the world has worn you down_

_I'll be waiting, so please come home_

The Goo Goo Dolls - Notbroken

 

 

The sounds were all too familiar – if somewhat muffled, as though he heard them through a heavy curtain. The beep of the monitors and the mechanical whirr of the multitude of machines. Bucky didn’t have to open his eyes to know he was in some sort of medical facility.

“God damn it Steve, I said no hospitals!” was what he tried to say, but the words never formed on his lips. At the same moment, he realized he couldn’t open his eyes and panic jolted down his spine.

He forced his mind to stay still a moment and listened to the rhythmic in and out of the ventilator that was filling his lungs with air. He tried to take a breath on his own – he felt nothing.

He couldn’t move at all.

Before he could really remember what had happened before he woke up here, before he could truly start to panic, a heavy sleepiness descended over him and he faded out of consciousness, completely oblivious to the warm, strong hand that was clasped over his at the bedside.

***

Some time must have passed, Bucky decided. He ran through his mental checklist, trying to move his toes, his legs, his fingers, his face. Just like every time before, nothing responded.

_Don’t leave me like this,_ he thought, left with only his mind for company. His mind and the sound of the machines, always just audible even though he knew they must be louder to anyone fully conscious in the room. He wondered, again, if anyone was there.

He was shocked when he realized that he was hearing a new sound – a voice? Bucky strained, struggling to silence his own thoughts so that he could listen, so that he could distinguish the human sound from the mechanical.

“- here for you, –“ and then something else unintelligible, and Bucky wanted to shout. _Speak louder, please! I can hear you if you talk louder! I could know who you were if you just stop whispering!_ Was it a doctor? A nurse? A friend?

The futility of the situation was like a vice on Bucky’s mind, the inability to communicate in any meaningful way and the way that he had absolutely no way to let anyone know his mind was still working, even if his useless body had given up on him.

_What kind of life is this?_ Bucky allowed the thought to slip through his defenses and he would have shuddered, had he been capable. _Steve knows this isn’t what I want._

He didn’t dare think the next thought, but it hovered at the edge of his consciousness – _Steve won’t leave me like this for long if he finds me here and thinks I’m gone._

Next to the bed, Steve spoke in a soft tone that Bucky would never hear, “Please, Buck. Don’t let this be the end of the line.”

***

The next time Bucky realized he was awake, he was angry. He argued furiously with his mind and body to scream, to thrash, to get those goddamned loud machines away. He was tired of trying to wiggle his toes – he had tried to keep count to have something to focus his thoughts on, but today could have been his 15th attempt or his 50th, and he didn’t, couldn’t care anymore.

The beeping grew louder, erratic, and he could hear other noises – all so close and yet sounding like they were a room away.

“He might be responding to –“

“Bucky!”

Bucky’s thoughts froze as he recognized – God, he hoped he recognized – Steve’s voice, finally separating from the cacophony of other sounds.

“Bucky, please – if you can hear me, please – can you give me a sign?”

_Steve -_ Bucky tried to speak, but there was no movement. His body betrayed him yet again, and he tried, focused every effort of his being to open his eyes and –

Nothing.

And he was so exhausted.

***

It was quieter the next time Bucky’s thoughts focused into awareness again. Quieter and somehow different. He realized the ventilator didn’t sound as loud. But he could hear the beeping of the other machinery, louder than ever.

He understood then. Steve had spoken to the doctor. Steve had explained that Bucky wouldn’t want to stay on the ventilator.

Bucky knew that Steve thought he was doing the best he could. It was just like they had discussed, and he remembered it all too clearly, the concerned lines of Steve’s face as he had sat down after a particularly rough, dangerous mission, the way he had explained to Bucky what his own wishes were if he had been incapable of making his own medical choices. The way Steve had then asked Bucky to tell him what he wanted.

And Bucky had said to him, “I am done being a prisoner in my own body, Steve. If it ever comes down to me not being able to breathe on my own, not able to do anything on my own – I don’t want any of that. Don’t let them do that to me. It’s never going to be worth it.”

  _Never thought it would be quite like this, though._ Bucky wondered what would be his last thought before he faded forever out of existence – he let his mind wander, remembering fractions of a flash of his childhood, blurred together with longer, bitter moments of the war and then his mind settled on Steve. Steve, his friend who had been there, patient and understanding as Bucky came to terms with himself and with the future. Steve, whose blue eyes had crinkled into more smiles than he could count and more frowns than he wanted to remember as they worked together with the Avengers, going after Hydra.

Steve, who had kissed him for the first time just before their last mission fell to pieces and then apologized, flustered, saying that he didn’t want to force Bucky into anything he wasn’t ready for and –

Like a cracking flash of lightning, Bucky’s thoughts derailed when he realized he FELT something, a weight heavy over his hand.

He tried to move his fingers – and just like every time before, absolutely nothing happened despite his best efforts. And he was tired, so goddamned tired.

But he vowed to focus his thoughts for one last try, and, finally, Bucky curled his fingers, a strained, clumsy maneuver, against Steve’s warm hand.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Bucky grumbled, his eyebrows furrowed as he stumbled over sounds that used to come without thought.

“And you’re progressing faster than anyone has any right to expect to,” his physical therapist reminded him. The facilities, based out of the Avenger’s Tower, were bright and airy and that pissed Bucky off even more. The soft sunlight streaming across the myriad of equipment he had been using during their afternoon session made it hard to cling to his fiery anger.

“Thought that goddamn serum was supposed to help more than this,” he replied, remembering the way Steve had recovered from his bruises after their missions. And he knew _he_ had recovered faster from some nasty wounds himself.

“James,” the therapist, a sturdy young woman who showed no fear being alone in the same room as him, gently chided. “You’ve already beat every benchmark for any other person sustaining the level of injury you did. You’re on your feet after two weeks of therapy. And based on the data we have, you can expect an almost perfect recovery.”

Bucky sighed, a long and drawn out noise like a petulant teenager. “And that’s two weeks that I’ll have spent useless. And more to come.” He hated his voice, the slur that drew out his words into unfamiliar noises.

“Someday, you’re going to look back on this,” his therapist responded, guiding him through another balance exercise. She shook her head when he insisted on doing a second round instead of resting, and had him rest for an extra three minutes before starting again. “You’re going to say to yourself, ‘four weeks to recover was only a fraction of my life.’ “

He paused, looking at her face before glancing at his left arm and then down at his feet, which quivered underneath him. “I understand. But I’ve come to learn how much those fractions can add up.”

***

Steve was technically his neighbor across the hall, but Bucky didn’t seem to see him as much anymore. Or anyone, really. He fumed as he clicked the lock and let himself into his living room. Bucky knew he was being left out of the missions by absolute necessity, but it still fueled the frustration that had him tossing his jacket across the room with enough strength to knock over the chair it landed on.

The loud crash reverberated in the otherwise quiet room and then everything was back to silence, save for the slow, shuffling steps that Bucky took as his sore muscles protested, his metallic left arm the only part of him that was back to 100%, good to go just as soon as his neural impulses had been restored to the mechanics.

It had Bucky thinking more often than usual that he should just replace his other useless limbs with metal. Metal survived, and, well, humans died. The thought lingered with him as he leaned heavily against the cool tile of kitchen counter and made himself dinner, ignoring his physical therapist’s admonitions to use his right hand more.

“Need music,” he decided as he cooked. He played loud rock music while he ate, thinking that the one good thing about no one being around was that no one would complain about the volume.

 But right as he finished his dinner, there was a knock on the door. Bucky raised an eyebrow as he haltingly got up from the table and made his way across the living room, opening the door to find Steve Rogers standing on the other side, looking tired and, well, messily gorgeous all at once. Bucky shook his head at the (almost) unexpected thought, and he stared without completely seeing Steve.

“Hey,” Steve said, running a hand through his mussy blonde hair and smiling. “Bad time for me to come by?”

Bucky grunted. His frustration had him entertaining the thought of telling Steve he was busy, but in the end, he motioned Steve inside. “Sit wherever,” he said, though the only options were the couch and the three dining room chairs. The fourth was still tipped over, his black jacket sprawled across it and the floor. “Thirsty?”

Steve hesitated and then asked for some water. Bucky knew Steve had been debating whether to offer to get it for himself or to let Bucky do it on his own. He waited until Steve was seated on the dark couch in the living room behind him and couldn’t see his face before letting a small smile escape as he turned off the music. Steve understood his needs.

By the time he had maneuvered a cup out of the cabinet and filled it with water using his right arm, the smile was long forgotten to frustration. Bucky handed Steve the cup, sullen and silent, and the silence stretched out for another minute before Steve started speaking again.

“Missed you out there today,” he said.

“I would have gotten you all killed,” Bucky replied, shrugging and bitter and stumbling over his words.

“Just because that’s the truth today doesn’t mean it will be next week,” Steve said with a lighthearted smile, his eyebrows elevated earnestly and his eyes piercing. He never lied to protect Bucky’s feelings, would never tell Bucky to come on a mission before he was ready. But Steve maintained an optimism about the future that Bucky found was always contagious. Steve took a sip of water and Bucky found himself drowning in Steve’s gaze.

One thing they hadn’t talked about though was the weeks old kiss. First there had been hospital personnel around every time Steve visited – which had been very often. Then when Bucky was given the green light to move back into his apartment at Avenger’s tower, the missions were back in full force. And now here they were, and Bucky wasn’t about to bring it up when he could barely spit out a sentence.

“We’ve changed some protocols because of what happened to you,” Steve said, going on to give the details on the report that had been generated. It was technical and personal and something Bucky would want to hear more about later. But right now, Bucky listened without hearing. The space between them on the couch was only one cushion, but it felt like a chasm as he wondered where he stood with Steve now. Maybe it would have been different if they had talked more before, if they had been closer. Maybe then Steve wouldn’t have cared if Bucky couldn’t quite speak like he used to, or move like he wanted to.

“You ok?” Steve asked, his eyes focused on Bucky’s.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, more a reflex than reality. He looked away.

The living room was dimly lit and the sun had set some time ago, leaving dark shadows dancing on Steve’s face as he studied Bucky’s, searching for something, and Bucky was sure he no longer had what Steve was looking for.

Steve leaned forward, tentatively, opening his arms as if to wrap them in a hug around Bucky and crossing the single couch cushion chasm, and Bucky, stunned, reacted by doing nothing, simply letting Steve follow through the motion.

“This is hurting you more than making peace with your past did, isn’t it?” Steve said finally. “Sometimes I think I understand, and other times I know that I’ll never be able to know what you’re truly thinking. And I’m sorry for that. And I want to know what you’re thinking.” A pause. “If you want to tell me.”

Bucky blinked, his mind finally reacting as he heard Steve apologize. Rather, it felt like his mind and body were acting on auto-pilot. Bucky leaned into the hug with a shudder.

His voice, still so foreign in his ears, almost cracked as he started speaking. “I never thought I’d have to rank it, losing an arm, dealing with my past – you’ve seen how long it’s taken me. I’m still working on it. But losing myself like this now too –“ He trailed off, frustrated by his slow speech, and unable to articulate that he felt like he was falling off that train again, that the uncertainty, the unknown factor of how his life would change was overwhelming.

That sometimes, even though objectively he knew that he was recovering on an amazing trajectory, he still wished that they had just let him die, that he just wasn’t strong enough to handle another assault on his existence.

Steve nodded, didn’t pretend to know how he felt, just held Bucky in a comfortable embrace.

Bucky rested his head against Steve’s shoulder, pushing aside his confusion over their relationship in favor of feeling some small measure of stability and friendship. Steve’s chest was warm, his heartbeat soothing and rhythmic, and Bucky closed his eyes, letting his guard down for a moment, the exhaustion from the past weeks crashing over him.

When he woke up the next morning, tucked comfortably into his bed, Steve was gone.

A quick, handwritten note lay on the nightstand next to him: “I had to let you sleep, you seemed so tired, but let’s catch up more soon.” Bucky would never know from the note the way Steve had watched him sleeping for a few minutes, the way Steve debated between lying down next to him and confessing all of his feelings, and the way he decided that it wasn’t fair to force the conversation on Bucky right at that moment.

Eventually, Bucky got out of bed and half-walked, half-stumbled across the hall, knocking on the door and waiting, but Steve was out on another mission.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky rolled over, a swift movement that put him back on his feet in seconds, and he dove across the floor, avoiding the strategic grab Steve made for his midsection, an excellent attempt to knock him off balance and gain the upper edge.

Using his metal arm for balance, Bucky kicked up off the ground, nearly vaulting onto Steve’s back – Steve, too slow by only a second, stumbled and put his arms up too late and Bucky grinned, his arms locked around Steve’s neck and shoulders.

“Good,” Steve said approvingly, as Bucky released his hold and nodded.

“Thanks,” Bucky muttered, quiet, because his voice was nowhere near as recovered as his body was now, and the ever-persistent slur of his words only served to frustrate him, preventing him from working on progressing in other areas.

Steve grabbed his water bottle, taking a seat at the edge of their practice mat. “You know that if you think you’re ready to get back on the field, we’re ready to have you.”

Bucky’s eyes were dark, a mixture of adrenaline from both the exercise and the unspoken fear. He regarded his sparring partner. Just like before, Steve had been there for him over the past two months – helping with his recovery, offering to spar when he was ready. Offering to have him come out to dinner with their friends.

He had never offered another kiss, or even an explanation. And Bucky, hurt and confused and certain Steve no longer wanted him in that way, had decided that if Steve didn’t want to talk about it, then he wouldn’t bring it up.

“Hey,” Steve said, with a hint of a sigh. “It sure would be nice if I wasn’t just talking to myself all the time.”

That was a new comment. Bucky reassessed Steve’s face, looking for frustration or anger, but finding nothing except the strong line of his jaw and the way his blonde hair lay in a beautiful mess after their practice. “I’m not a fan of talking anymore,” Bucky grumbled, pushing back his dark hair and the unwanted thoughts down to the back of his mind, as far as they could go.

“That’s a change, isn’t it?” Steve reflected.

Bucky shrugged. “Thanks for coming down here to practice,” he said, choosing to ignore the comment.

“No problem,” Steve said. He paused, looking thoughtfully up towards the ceiling, opening his mouth as if to speak and then stopping before he started. Bucky noticed the motion from the corner of his eye as he moved across the mat to get his own water bottle.

“Spit it out, Rogers,” Bucky said, the ghost of a grin on his face as he prided himself for his ability to see Steve’s subtleties. He smirked as Steve turned to him, obviously surprised that Bucky had noticed he was about to speak. It seemed to persuade Steve to say what was on his mind.

“I was thinking,” Steve said carefully, watching Bucky and considering his words again before continuing, “That if you didn’t feel ready, I didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for –“

Bucky’s heart thudded, his body came to a screeching halt as he recognized the words he had heard four long months ago, words that brought him right back to that mission –

_Steve was standing next to him, clad in his dark blue stealth suit. Bucky stood in his own black ensemble, hand on the hilt of his gun as they waited for Natasha over the commlink to signal their next move._

_They were silent, Bucky scanning the horizon ahead and Steve watching the peripherals. Steve made a noise, almost like a cough, and Bucky turned to look at him._

_“Timeline’s moving up, one minute, starting now.” Natasha’s voice stated. In unison, Bucky and Steve nodded, and Steve glanced at his watch, starting the countdown as they moved forward, targets now in sight._

_On his mark, they fought silently and swiftly, neutralizing their appropriate targets with Steve announcing, “all clear” as they finished._

_“Hang tight, boys, rendezvous in five,” Natasha replied, and Steve had turned towards Bucky again._

_Steve had easily caught his breath from the fight, but his face was tense, drawn up, and Bucky, worried, scanned the area around them again, looking for an unexpected approach._

_“Bucky,” Steve had muttered and he trailed off before closing the distance between them, putting his arms around Bucky’s waist and leaning in, blue eyes shifting through fear, hesitation and – affection? – before his lips were on Bucky’s and Bucky was blinking, trying to make sense of the situation. Steve’s lips were warm and soft and the tender press of them against Bucky’s own was like a gentle fire, warming him down to his toes and, just as he started to return the kiss, Steve had practically jumped back, shaking his head._

_“I’m so sorry,” Steve said, grimacing and shaking his head. “I should have asked first.”_

_“Steve –“ Bucky had begun to speak, but Steve was full-force into apologizing._

_“I don’t want to force you into anything you’re not ready for,” Steve said. “And this isn’t the time or the place – but I – “_

_Bucky would never know what Steve was going to say next._

_“Guys. Unexpected incoming. I need backup at the point NOW.” Natasha warned in their earpieces and Steve and Bucky were off, running as fast as they could to their rendezvous point, the forest around them a blur of trees and brush._

_An explosion, a bright orange and yellow flash, seemed to envelop the whole forest, the unexpected light nearly blinding Bucky and he instinctively ducked – he could hear Steve do the same, and his instincts followed the explosion to its likely source – he was back up on his feet, moving quickly, ignoring Steve’s shouts behind him, his only thoughts – protect Steve, protect Natasha –_

_And then there was another explosion, too close, right behind him, the sound deafening and the shockwave shuddering through his body as everything faded to nothing._

Bucky breathed heavily, one hand on the floor to support himself, even as he sat, as he grappled with the sudden, intrusive memory, and Steve moved towards him, a hand outstretched and asking with concern, “are you ok?”

The well-intentioned words brought out Bucky’s darkest scowl, and before he could stop himself, he was on his feet. His face was red, his ears were ringing, and he was yelling. “No, I am NOT ok, Steve! I have had to work so GOD DAMN hard every day just to get to someplace passable for _‘ok!’_ Every day that I could have done something useful, I’ve had to sit here by myself, working this hard just to be ‘alright’.”

Steve said nothing, just listened, and Bucky panted, ready to scream. The way Steve stood there, listening, no comments, no false promises, no hollow reassurances – Bucky’s face was burning.

“How DARE you, Steve?” Bucky yelled, looking into the calm eyes of his best friend, the one person who knew him better than anyone else, who was standing there, just _listening_ like Bucky was the only thing in the world that mattered at this moment _._ “How dare you,” Bucky repeated as he came to a realization, his knees going weak as his fury suddenly dissipated like the abrupt lifting of the fog.

That was the exact moment that Bucky understood Steve’s feelings for him, and instead of making him happy, it only made his anger surge up again in a huge, heavy wave. “How dare you still care for me when I’m like this now?” he snarled, catching his balance and charging towards Steve, ready to take him down.

Steve didn’t miss a beat. He shifted his weight forward and met Bucky square on, moving to disperse Bucky’s rush. What Bucky was lacking in grace, his rage supplied strength Steve hadn’t completely accounted for, and they felt to the ground together, a tangle of arms and legs.

 Bucky tried to roll away, but Steve reacted a moment sooner, snaking his legs and arms through Bucky’s until Bucky was effectively pinned. He struggled violently for a minute, all the while Steve was saying, “Yes, I do care for you, you’re my friend, let me be yours –“

Bucky wretched one last time and then went limp, and Steve waited for a full minute before cautiously releasing his hold.

“I’m not going to attack again,” Bucky muttered, his words further muffled by his position face down on the mat.

Steve moved and sat next to him. “Bucky,” he said as Bucky pulled himself off of the ground into a seat position. “When I said ‘until the end of the line’, I didn’t mean until you had a rough time in your life. I meant forever.”

“This isn’t a ‘rough time’,” Bucky replied as he shook his head. “This is me.”

“And I love _you_ ,” Steve said, plainly, suddenly. “My biggest regret is that I’ve waited so long to say it. That it’s come to this.”

Bucky stared at Steve hard, searching for a clue, a tell, anything that Steve was playing him. “Don’t you say something you don’t mean,” he said slowly, knowing full well that Steve Rogers said very little that he didn’t mean.

“I’ve always appreciated you being my friend,” Steve said. Bucky noticed just how softly blue Steve’s eyes were, how clear and honest. “But in the past year, I’ve come to realize I would like more than that. And I was too scared to lose your friendship to tell you what I felt. So I said nothing until I was telling you at the worst possible time.”

“God damn it, Steve,” Bucky grunted. “If you hadn’t interrupted me after our first kiss, I would have told you all those months ago that I feel the same.”

Steve’s face was almost neutral, but Bucky saw the hope and concern at the corners of his eyes. Wanting to ease the concern, Bucky clarified, “You’re the one that I want to be with, too, Steve.”

Bucky’s adrenaline rush had started to fade dramatically, and he shivered despite the relative heat of the room. Steve smiled in a rush of relief and held his arms out to Bucky, who gratefully accepted the warm embrace. And when Steve wrapped his hand around Bucky’s fingers as they walked out of the gym, he was surprised by how much the gesture felt like _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet and sappy, just the way I love to leave these guys. Usually anyhow. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading! It was a different project for me to write and I really enjoyed the learning process.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
